Prologues
by Allanasha ke kiri
Summary: Here are the four prologues to the stories in my poll, as asked by my reviewers. Poll is closed, but as I have yet to load any of them, feel free to send your vote in a review.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone! Yes, I know that I already have another story up, but this one wouldn't leave my mind, it just _had_ to be written. I hope you enjoy it.

Title: Love is for the Blind  
Series: I don't think so.

Rating: T  
Warnings: Major character death, slash (male/male pairing)  
Pairings: Tom Riddle/ Harry Potter, others. . . possibly.  
Summary: A fight with Draco sends Harry 50 years in the past, but there's just one problem with traveling back so far before your birth. How will Harry deal with it all when he can't even recall who he is?

Prologue -

I have heard my enemies say that I know nothing of love. Those fools are wrong. I knew it, once. I _felt_ it, once. I even let it consume me, once, though not to the point that I forgot my goals. We were to rule together, side by side, equal in power. He was to be the only one I would ever do that for. We were to live together, forever, once we had taken over; once we ruled them all. All that was to happen, once, but he left. I watched him leave. He didn't walk out the door, or apparate, or portkey, no, he simply disappeared, never to be seen again.

Supposedly.

I saw him again, but not for a long while. I never did know where he went, what had happened to him over the years. At times I nearly died with my longing, but I shoved it away and moved on. He was gone, dead (or so I told myself, despite the proof to the contrary), and I had to complete our dream on my own. Nobody else would take his place, though; nobody else deserved it. They weren't powerful enough, pretty enough, they were not _him_.

He was gone.

I was never to see him again.

I soon forgot about him . . . or so I told myself.

Then I saw him, some fifteen years ago. I walked into that retched house, and there he was. Only, it wasn't him, the eyes were wrong, so I simply killed him, sparing him the torture he was to have, because he looked like the one I had once loved. The mudblood was next, then her child. I didn't kill either right away. The mudblood had his eyes. Those brilliant green eyes, pleading with me, _begging_ me. He never begged. She would have lived, if she had moved, if she had stepped out of the way of the child. She didn't have to die; she had his eyes. Nobody with eyes like those should have to die, but she did not move. So she died.

The child too had her, _his_ eyes, those eyes did not belong to a mudblood. I did not kill him right away, because the child fascinated me. Even as I killed his mother, he did not cry. Even as I pointed my wand at him, he did not cry. He simply stared at me with those eyes, wide, questioning, innocent. I could feel the power radiating from the child, and knew he had to go. So I killed him, or I tried. And so was born The-Boy-Who-Lived.

I hated him, tried to kill him on several occasions. Then, his fourth year, when I was given back my body, I made a surprising discovery.

The boy's scar. I had only ever seen one other like it. On Him. At first, I refused to believe it. Potter was not the same one. He couldn't be. They were too different, and he was _here_, not there. But that doubt, the small thought that he _could_ be, was what made me let him escape. My followers do not know this, but I had a clear shot at him, as the phantom's surrounded me. I could see him clearly, but that small doubt had me hold my wand. There were better things to do than kill him, if he was. . .

Research told me it was possible. He could be. There were so many similarities. There were many. They had the same eyes, and the same build. They moved the same, a predators walk, some would say. Smooth and graceful, deadly, precise; I loved watching him walk. I had long ago memorized it. Their eyes held the same gleam when they were feeling defiant, and they both held the same potential. Except, my love had begun to tap into it, with my guiding, of course. The only difference was the hair, Potter's was too short.

That changed when we met at the ministry. It had grown. It was him, I knew it. The power radiating from him was intoxicating, and hauntingly familiar, just as it was from him. They were so similar, they had to be the same. So I let him live, because, he had to go back, and when he returned (as I now knew he would) he would come to me willingly. He had promised as much.

We would rule together, we said. Side by side, as equals. Together we would be unstoppable, he promised. And I knew he would keep his promise, he was just as passionate about it at the end as I was; as I still am. He would return to me. My Jeramiah would be mine once more, and there would be nothing that could stop us. Nothing would be able to stand in our way; not even that Muggle-loving old fool that seems so fond of him.

* * *

At first I thought it would be James. The boy was so similar to Jeramiah in looks, but the eyes were different, and he had no scar. And he didn't leave during the school year. It was startling, though, to see his son grow into the exact replica.

I knew, eventually, that the boy was from the future. We now know that all the symptoms pointed that way. He had no memory, and they hadn't been obliviated. Traveling before your time is the only way to to erase ones memories so completely, though we did not know it then. Though, he remembered, things, upon occasion. A name would be said, or he would be shown something, and his eyes would glaze momentarily, as if remembering something. It was an interesting sight, but he never remembered anything. He never seemed to be able to reach far enough back to grasp it.

Jeramiah did not know, none of us did at the time, but that did not stop us from trying to help him. When no one came forward to 'claim' him as theirs we assumed he had no family, so we treated him as any of the other orphans we teach. And he grew closer to Tom. I tried to stop it, I knew, even then, what Tom was, and I knew he would corrupt the child, but I never could do anything to separate them.

Tom was devastated when Jeramiah vanished. It happened right in front of him, too, or so I have heard. One moment, he was there, the next, he was gone. He came to me once to demand answers to his disappearance. I told him I did not know, but by then I had begun to research, and had begun to get answers to Jeramiah's strange case. It had happened before, and every time, they had left, to return. I told Tom I did not know where Jeramiah had went, but let him think I suspected that he was dead. He went into a rage, much like the one young Harry had at the end of last year, and could not be consoled. He was angry for days, and I do not believe he ever grieved. I often heard of him researching things on the dead, necromancy, but he never attempted anything, to my knowledge. Not that it would have worked; Jeramiah was not dead, just shoved forward, back to where he belonged.

It was not until after Harry's fourth year that I truely knew it to be him. I kept telling myself it couldn't be him. Sure, he looked like him, but the hair was the wrong length, and Jeramiah had a scar on his left arm. A scar that Harry got after his run in with Tom in the graveyard. There was no denying it after that. Harry Potter was Jeramiah Kenley.

I did not tell him, because there was nothing for it. He would go back, whether I told him about it or not, and he would not remember anything. But he would return, of that I knew. The fact that Jeramiah disappeared tells me that much. I could only hope that Harry could be saved when that happened.

It will be sometime this year, if we got the age right. If not, it will be next year. But it will be soon, and Harry will go back. I can only hope that when he returns, he is more Harry, than Jeramiah. Or we may have another Dark Lord to deal with. One can only hope.

"Albus!" Minerva exclaims as she runs into my office.

"What is it, Minerva?" I ask.

"Harry Potter has vanished."

So it has begun.

* * *

"My lord,"

I glance down at my follower. It is Lucius. His movements are always graceful.

"What do you bring me?"

"My son tells me that Potter has disappeared. The school is frantically trying to search for him. Only that muggle-loving fool is not worried."

"He wouldn't be," I murmur, "This news pleases me, Lucius."

"Would you like me to try to find where he has gone, my lord?"

"You would not be able to find him, Lucius," I answer with a dismissive wave of my hand. "He is somewhere not even you can reach, but, when he returns, we will not have to worry about him. He will be mine."

* * *

Alright, here's the prologue for Love is for the Blind. Personally, I liked Voldemort's portion of this much better than Dumbledore's. It just seemed to flow better to me. It was easier to write as well. (shrug) anyway.

Feel free to tell me what you think. The poll is currently up and waiting for people to vote.

Thanks!

Allanasha Ke Kiri


	2. Chapter 2

Title: What Would You Do?  
Author: Allanasha Ke Kiri  
Beta: N/A  
Warnings:  
Rating: T  
Summary: "What would you do, Harry Potter, if you realized your life was a lie?" Whatever he'd expected to encounter that night, that wasn't it.

**What Would You Do?**

**Legilimens**

_"What would you do, Harry Potter, if you realized that your life was a lie?"_

Harry blinked; he couldn't help _but_ blink. Of all the things he had expected, from a sneering speech to just an AK, that hadn't been it. He blinked again, frowning as he stared at the man that had caused him so much trouble.

"What?" he asked finally, unable to say, or do, anything else.

He knew he should just finish it, kill the man before he came to his senses. Kill him before he could realize just who he was talking to. But he couldn't. There was something about the man, as he stared up at the not quite full moon, that was off, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it. The man still stood straight and tall. Harry couldn't see even the hint of a slouch from the man's profile.

Perhaps, it was the light from the moon that made him look softer. Or maybe, it was how his face was turned up to gaze at it. Then again, could it be his voice? The normally powerful, cold, hiss, sounded remarkably human just now; full of emotion that Harry had never thought he'd ever hear from the man before him: Pain.

"What do we fight for?" Voldemort whispered, still gazing at the moon.

Harry blinked again, his frown deepening, as he took a quick glance around. Perhaps it was a trap? Why else would the Dark Lord be staring at the _moon_ and talking as if they did it every weekend? Where was the man everyone feared? The man had been present a mere 10 hours before, when he told the castle that they had 24 hours to surrender before he attacked.

He saw nobody but the two of them. All was silent.

"Do you not know what you fight for, Harry Potter?"

Harry jumped slightly, turning his attention back to Voldemort, the man still wasn't looking at him. "I'm fighting to stop you." His voice was confident.

Voldemort nodded, then fell silent. Harry couldn't help but tense, expecting the trap to spring. His grasp tightened on his wand.

"If I asked you, would you kill me?"

Harry was sure that his mouth dropped open, his grasp loosening from his wand. He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Had he heard right?

"Kill you?" he asked, voice incredulous.

Voldemort sighed, finally turning his face from the moon as he turned to fully face him. Harry felt his throat close up at the anguish shown in the man's eyes.

"I did not mean for this." He lifted a hand and motioned around them, to the castle and back to the Forbidden Forest, where his own followers waited. "To happen. I find that, so close the end, but, having come so far, I cannot return."

Harry was silent, allowing the man to speak, hoping that this wasn't a trap, because, if it was, he was doomed. Just like his second year, he found himself drawn into the man's words, almost hypnotised by them.

"Will you do it for me?" he asked. "Will you be the one to show me the mercy no one else has deemed me worthy of?"

It would be so easy, right now, to just raise his wand and say those two words. Say them, and the world would be rid of the darkest Dark Lord ever known, or something like that (Harry had never really payed much attention to those specifics), but he'd never been able to pass up a mystery.

"I don't understand. Why?"

Voldemort closed his eyes and bowed his head, seeming to hunch in on himself, and Harry could do nothing but gape. For a moment, Harry thought the man wasn't going to answer, but, eventually, his whispered words reached Harry.

"If I show you, will you kill me?"

". . . Yes." It was what he had came out to do, after all, and if the man wasn't even going to fight it, it would be all the easier.

It was then that Voldemort pulled out his wand, but Harry's was already pointed at him.

Voldemort blinked at him before giving a small, strangely ironic smile. "I don't suppose you're a leglimens?"

"I've cast it once or twice."

He tilted his head slightly, the strangely innocent gesture completely at odds with the snake-like dark lord. His eyes locked on Harry's green ones, Voldemort released his wand, letting it fall to the ground at his feet.

"My shields are down, Harry Potter."

Harry's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. Surely he didn't mean . . .? But, looking at him, Harry could see that he was. Mentally shrugging, he raised his wand.

"Legilimens."

And he was in.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

_He was five, and running. He could feel the fear coursing through his veins. He didn't dare look back; they'd catch up if he did, and they wouldn't be gentle. Through his fear, he could feel relief, the door was just ahead. If he could just get through it, he would be safe. There were trees outside._

_A moment later, and he was out. Then, he was falling. A cry escaped his lips as he tumbled down the stairs. Pain flared through his left arm, he'd broken something, but that was nothing new. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled back to his feet hoping he'd still be able to get away. A hand grabbed his arm, the one he'd hurt, and jerked back. He cried out, both in surprise and pain; he hadn't realised they were so close._

_"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get away from us, Riddle."_

_"Please," he whimpered, trying to make himself small, and hating himself for it._

_Laughter, they were enjoying it. He felt his anger well up, but with it came tears. He was helpless, there was nothing he could do. He was weak, powerless. They laughed at his tears._

_Pain._

* * *

_His gaze flickered upward, toward the ceiling. He was as amazed by it as the others, but he hid it. His mask was perfect. He wouldn't show anything that could be used against him. Emotions were a weakness he could not afford. Beside him was a blond girl, his age, chattering on about something. He'd met her on the train, and she had insisted on walking with him._

_"It's amazing," she breathed, wonder filling her words._

_He raised a silent eyebrow. She would be hurt, if she kept exposing herself so, but he wouldn't be the one to do it. He found her oddly . . . endearing. So he just nodded silently and let her ramble on._

_She didn't stop until a hat began to sing, then she giggled silently. Inara Kelton was her name, and she was a Hufflepuff. He was a Slytherin._

* * *

_He sat silently, glaring down at the floor before the desk. He hurt, but then he always hurt after a meeting._

_"Do not be discouraged, Tom," a kind voice said. "We are making progress. Every session brings you closer."_

_He said nothing, but he could feel his glare intensify. He carefully controlled his breathing, refusing to let Dumbledore know how angry he was. He hated how weak he was. He would get stronger. It was the only way to stop what was happening._

_"Tom?"_

_He kept his head bowed. **Just breath.** he thought. **In. Out. In. Out. Don't let him get to you.**_

"Come now, Tom. You're being childish again," his tone was patranising.

His head snapped up, his glare came with it. Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head sadly.

"I had hoped you would not be so stubborn, Tom. I've told you that this is the only way. You were so eager in the beginning. What changed? Hmm?"

He continued to glare, barely restraining his hate at the man before him.

Dumbledore sighed again, his eyes locked on his. "I believe we should extend tonight session, Tom. You seem to be regressing."

Pain.

* * *

They flew by, images, emotions, memories, each of them showing him more than he'd ever wanted to know. Through them all, he felt the anger, the hate, the hopelessness. They overwhelmed him, making him forget who he was.

Then, just as suddenly as he had been brought in, he was back, gasping. He blinked at the ground, much closer than it had been when he'd started. His scar was flaring worse than it had before. Getting ahold of his breathing, he glanced up, to see Voldemort in much the same position. Finally, the older man raised his eyes. Red met green. Both of them were silent. As they stared they spoke without words.

Harry's eyes told of his sympathy, never pity. Pity was never welcome, he knew well from his own experiences. He expressed his hate at what had happened to the other man.

Voldemort accepted it, and he begged.

Finally, Harry nodded. He'd said he would. Shakily, he rose to his feet. Voldemort rose with him, his wand left on the ground.

Harry stared at him a moment longer, their eyes meeting. He nodded once and cast his spell. A quick death, something Voldemort didn't deserve, but it was something Tom did. A quick spell, a green light, and his body fell. Voldemort was no more.

* * *

Hmm . . . Not sure I'm completely happy with this. Well, I can always come back and change it later, I suppose. After all, the poll isn't done just yet. What do you think? feedback keeps my muse interested in the story. It has a tendency to go off to different things if he doesn't get his ego stroked often enough. (rolls eyes.) I got this idea from a challenge on AFF .net.

**Challenger:** Jester08

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

**Summary:** "What would you do, Harry Potter, if you realized that your life was a lie?"

**Challenge:** On the eve of the final battle, an emotionally broken Lord Voldemort comes to Harry, begging for death. Before giving him his final wish, Harry recieves all of Voldemort's memories. Spurred by sympathy for his enemy, and hatred for Dumbledore, Harry goes back in time, to where it all began, determined to right what went wrong.

**Details:** _Rated:_ M (obviously changed to be made appropriate for FF .net

Major Angst/Romance

Romance can't start right away. It must happen after they get to know eachother, and Tom gets a little older.

Time Travel

More than 15 chapters

Harry will be 16 and in his sixth year of school

Tom will be 11 and in his first year of school

Dumbledore MUST be the bad guy

Tom will be the submissive on

Tom will be abused by his classmates and Dumbledore. (For Dumbledore will be in secret) making him suspicious of everyone around him.

Everyone's abuse, but mainly Dumbledore's, will be what makes him into the Dark Lord.

You can include your own characters, too, if you wish.

That's that challenge, word for word even. My muse just went OMG and snatched it up. I don't know where it's going to go with it, or what it's going to do, or anything. Suggestions are welcome, and they can sometimes give my muse an idea, even if it wasn't what was intended.

It's happened before, at any rate. You'd be surprised at the things my muse will come up with from just the simplest stuff.  
Anyway (again), tell me what you think! And don't forget to vote on which of the four you prefer.

Thanks for voting!

Allanasha Ke Kiri


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Mishandled and Cherished  
Author: Allanasha Ke Kiri  
Rating: Probably T  
Pairing: Harry/Blaise (abusive), Harry/Lucius or Harry/Severus  
Summary: Harry is in an abusive relationship, but continues to tell himself that it doesn't matter. He desperately tries to hold together his marriage and family, withdrawing into himself and hoping that things will get better as he tries to change himself to his husband's standards. He is disillusioned, however when the abuse begins to spill over to their eldest child. Harry decides enough is enough and grabs the kids and runs. Help comes from the most unlikely of sources.

**Prologue:**

"Do you, Blaise Emal Zabini, heir of the Zabini and Reachester lines, take Harry James Potter, heir of the Potter line, to be your husband in the eyes of the world?" the priestess said, her soft voice echoing over the silent hall.

"I do," was Blaise's soft reply as he stared into Harry's eyes.

Harry could see the love and warmth reflecting from them, and he fought to breath. This was really happening. They had been together for three years, since the Christmas of their seventh year, and engaged for two of it. Harry still couldn't believe that it was finally happening. It all looked real, and felt real, but he was afraid that he was dreaming, that, in the next moment, he'd wake up and none of it will have happened. They'd still be engaged, with no end of it in sight.

"Do you swear to care for him, provide for him, and protect him from those who would do him harm?"

"I do,"

Harry swallowed from the heat he saw in his soon-to-be husband's eyes. He had already proven he would protect him, nearly dying in the final battle when he tackled Harry out of the way of a not-so-stray killing curse. The curse had been mere inches from hitting Blaise. Harry had thought that he'd have a heart attack.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, heir of the Potter line, take Blaise Emal Zabini, heir of the Zabini and Reachester lines, to be your husband in the eyes of the world?"

"I do," Harry breathed, his green eyes focused on Blaise's black ones, hoping it was real.

"Do you swear to care for him, provide for him, and protect him from those who would do him harm?"

"I do,"

And he had, so far. After the final battle, Blaise had been stuck in the infirmary, due to damage he had taken. Harry had been unable to force himself from Blaise's side, and no one had been able to force him away either. Because of that, Harry had been able to stop an assassination attempt one of Voldemort's, previously, uncaught followers had tried. Harry never had bothered to learn his name.

Priestess Alena raised her right hand from where it was placed on their joined right hands, and motioned to Draco, Blaise's best man. Draco stepped forward and presented her with a small gold ring, the Zabini crest etched into the metal. He then stepped back, shooting Harry a soft smile. They were, if not friends, at least friendly acquaintances. They were forced to. Draco was Blaise's best friend, and Harry, his significant other.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, accept this ring, symbol of Blaise Emal Zabini's family, and, in so doing, accept his family, his status, and your place by his side?"

"I do," was Harry's soft reply.

"Present your hand."

Harry raised his hand, and was not surprised to see the slight tremble. Priestess Alena gave him a soft smile as she fitted the ring onto his finger. Harry's eyes were drawn to the little band of gold as Priestess Alena lifted her left hand from his and Blaise's joined hands and motioned to Ron, Harry's best man. Ron stepped forward, placing a gold ring with the Potter crest into her pale hand. Then, Ron stepped back without a word. His friend was not particularly pleased with his choice of partner, but he had, at least, stopped talking against it.

"Do you, Blaise Emal Zabini, accept this ring, symbol of Harry James Potter's family, and, in so doing, accept his family, his status, and your place by his side?"

"I do," Blaise answered, his eyes still boring into Harry's.

"Present your hand."

Harry still felt like he was in a dream, even as Blaise's hand rose and crossed their joined hands, letting her place the Potter ring on his.

Priestess Alena then, placed Blaise's right hand on top of their joined ones. Then, she gently grabbed Harry's and placed his atop them, only then did both of her hands settle on top of them once again.

"From your time to your words, may your vows now bind you close. As these rings do show the world, may your days be filled with peace. To seal your bond, now seal your lips," she said removing her hands from theirs.

Blaise's hands slipped up Harry's arms as they both drew closer. It was not until their lips finally met that Harry was finally convinced that it was no dream. He was awake, and they were finally married. When they finally drew apart, Harry smiled happily up at his husband. Blaise smirked down at him.

* * *

Here's the prologue for Mishandled and Cherished (working title). Hopefully, I'll have a better title by the time I have to put it up (if this is the one chosen at all.) I know this doesn't really show much of what the rest of the story will be like, but this is it. The first chapter will skip to several years in the future.

Thanks for Voting

Allanasha Ke Kiri


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Star Light, Star Bright  
Author: Allanasha Ke Kiri  
Pairing: Undecided, but might by Harry/Tom  
Rating: T (just to be safe)  
Summery: six year old Harry Potter make a childish wish on a star to be _anywhere_ but his relatives; while another place and time, another young boy wishes that he had someone that cared. Their magic hears them and works together to take young Harry to an orphanage where a seven year old Tom Riddle currently resides. What will the future hold for our two favorite boys?

Alright everyone, you might as well know that, as of this chapter I have absolutely no idea where I want to go. I do not know how far this will go, if it will have a sequel, or if Harry goes back to the future. (can you imagine the panic?) I also don't know if Tom will change . . . probably not. Well, not overly much.

I got this plot-bunny reading another story, such is my luck, huh? Anyway, here it is!

**Prologue**

The sky quickly darkened around Little Whinging, Surrey, and all around the quaint, quiet, neighborhood, mothers were calling in their children for the night. As the streets emptied of the laughing, playing children, the lights turned on in the various windows the identicle houses had. Soon, the only one still outside was a young six-year-old child, whose guardians did not care. The child, small even for one so young, stared longingly at the buildings, imagining the families gathering telly and, later, the table for dinner.

Harry Potter, the young child, did not know why his guardians did not seem to like him as they did Dudley, their son, nor did he understand why he slept in the cupboard under the stairs while his cousin received two bedrooms. All he did know was that he wanted what everyone else had, a family. Someone to tuck him in at night and read him a story, like he had seen Aunt Petunia do to Dudley every night.

Young Harry sat alone and forgotten on the curb outside number 4, Privet Drive, his green eyes watching the quiet street. Slowly, his eyes turned to the sky. They lit upon seeing a single star in the sky. Earlier that week, a nice man had told him a little rhyme used for wishes, and, despite his relative's attempts at keeping him from believing in anything 'unusual,' Harry couldn't help but feel like there _had_ to be something more than what he saw, and, gazing up at the single star, he couldn't help but close his eyes.

"Star light, star bright," he quietly chanted, "first star I see tonight; wish I may, wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." He took a deep breath and, squishing his eyes tightly together he put everything into his next words. "I wish I was anywhere but here."

A bright light flashed through the street, completely unnoticed by anyone in the quiet houses. Two hours later, Petunia Dursley stepped outside and yelled for Harry. When he did not come, she frowned and called again. Her angry frown turned to one of fear as she hurried into the house, locking it behind her as she went to search for her husband. Only one thought echoed through her head: what would those freaks do if they came to get the boy and discovered him gone?

* * *

The Orphanage was quiet at night. He liked it that way. Not that it was really night yet. The sky was still to light for it to be so, and there was only one star in the sky. Still, though, the grounds were quieting as everyone was going inside, trying to keep out of the hot summer night air.

Tom did not care about the heat. He was alone, again. Not that anybody cared about him. He was just poor orphan Tommy. The 'freak' who caused strange things to happen. Tom roughly wiped a tear from his blue eyes, holding his right arm to his chest. It was still sore where the older boys had stretched it out so that another one could sit on it. He was angry at himself for crying. All it ever did was cause you to be seen as weak by those that sought to hurt you. Still, it would be nice to have someone that cared about you. That actually worried that something might be happening to you.

On the other side of the gates, Tom watched as a small family by. A small boy sat on a tall man's shoulders; while a woman held a small bundle in her arms.  
"Daddy, look," the boy exclaimed, pointing into the sky, "It's a star!"

The family stopped walking as they looked into the sky.

"Make a wish," the man said. "It might come true."

Tom listened as the child recited a silly rhyme before becoming silent. He wondered what the kid was going to wish for.

"Done?" the woman asked.

The boy nodded. "I wished that--"

"Don't tell us, it wont come true," the man warned.

Tom watched the family continue away before his eyes turned to the sky once more, landing on the star that shone. Did it really work? Daring to hope, Tom closed eyes.

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight," he whispered, not daring to speak any louder. " wish I may, wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." Trying not to get his hopes up, he took a deep breath. "I wish I had someone that cared."

A moment later, a bright flash of light had Tom's eyes flying open. Sitting just a little ways ahead of him was a little boy with black, messy, hair, with his head bowed. He hadn't been there before Tom had closed his eyes.

Cautiously, Tom moved forward. "What are you doing here?" Tom called, sounding tougher than he felt.

The boy jumped, leaping to his feet. When he turned, Tom felt himself drawn into his green eyes. They were like gems he had seen in a book. Emeralds, they were called. Tom had never seen eyes like that. They stared at him in fear, and Tom couldn't help but feel that eyes that looked like a priceless stone shouldn't shine with fear.

"W-who are you?" the boy asked, looking around. "Where am I?"

Tom drew himself up to his full height. "This is St. Mary's Orphanage (1). I'm Tom Riddle. Who're you?"

"I-I'm Harry Potter." The boy, Harry, looked around in amazement.

"You should get back to your parents. They wouldn't want you hanging here," Tom said, even though he didn't want the smaller boy to leave yet.

Harry seemed to shrink in on himself, making him seem smaller than he had before. "I don't have parents. They died in a car crash."

Tom blinked. "I don't have 'em neether." He brightened suddenly. "That means you can stay here. Everyone here doesn't have parents." It would give him a chance to get to know the boy with gem eyes better.

Harry blinked at him before turning his gaze to the sky, where the star still shone by itself. "It gave me my wish," he said quietly. Harry looked back down and gave him a hesitant smile. "Okay."

Tom smiled and grabbed him arm, dragging him to the enterance of the orphanage.

* * *

Here it is. Sorry if Tom seems a little out of character, but remember, he's only 7. And I showed the beginnings of his . . . thoughness? I don't know . . . already. Don't worry, he will still grow to be . . . him. . . I think. Probably. As I've stated before I don't really know where this is going to go. It depends on a mixture of what my muse wants, and what my readers want.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! You can vote for this in my profile or in a review. If you leave it in a review, please don't vote in the profile, it will severly mess up the results.

Thanks!

Allanasha Ke Kiri


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